


sleepless cinderella - kun

by starlightkun



Series: sleepless cinderella (wayv) [2]
Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Journalist Reader, Mild Language, Pilot Qian Kun, i insult french people and for that im so sorry, its me being qian kuns whore again whats new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:02:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26562580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightkun/pseuds/starlightkun
Summary: in which you learn to make things work
Relationships: Qian Kun/Reader
Series: sleepless cinderella (wayv) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931839
Kudos: 37





	sleepless cinderella - kun

You don’t know why you’re back at the lounge again. In your fanciest dress and pair of heels. Again. When you’d gotten the random message from some unknown number claiming to be Ten, you were skeptical. And you still were as you took the quiet and quick elevator ride up. Why did you even accept the invitation to this party in the first place? You didn’t know them, it wasn’t _your_ friend getting a promotion from first officer to captain. Hell, you could barely remember the guy’s name. Kun, you were pretty sure. The son of Qian Jian.

Which was probably why you _had_ accepted the invite. Could be something good for your article. The journalist in you could never really keep quiet, not when a lead like this was being dangled in front of you like a piece of meat in front of a wolf.

And if you had nothing else going for you, you were determined. Despite the anxiety that was suffocating you, you maintained a confident posture and remained unflinching as the doors opened with that same _ding!_ as before.

Seven pairs of eyes were on you. You had the overwhelming urge to either throw up or slam the ‘close doors’ button on the panel. Or both. Both was also an option.

But you didn’t. Squaring your shoulders and letting your eyes meet each of theirs, you traipsed into the lounge.

“Hi,” you ignored the slight squeak in your voice as you stopped just past the entrance of the lounge.

In your head, you did a mental roll call of who was there. Ten, the ‘hero,’ whose stunned face turned to a bright smile. Yangyang, the F1 racer, who somehow looked even younger than the last time you saw him now that he was sporting a too-big suit jacket. Hendery, the robot builder, who rolled his eyes as soon as you made eye contact with him. Sicheng, the actor, who coughed and looked away from you. Yukhei, the explorer/model, who would have intimidated you except for the awe-struck grin across his face and his big eyes even wider with wonder. Dejun, the director, whose sharp features were already starting to break into an easy smile at your familiar face. And Kun, the pilot, whose promotion you were all gathered to be celebrating. No longer a first officer, now a captain.

You let your eyes settle on him, “Congrats, Kun.”

Seeming nearly startled from a trance, he nodded in acknowledgement, “Thanks, Y/N.”

“Let me guess,” Hendery focused his annoyed glare to Ten. “You invited her.”

“And what about it?” The surgeon shot back cockily. “She seems like fun.”

Dejun interrupted him with a short smack to the back of his head, “What kind of fun are you thinking about, Ten?”

The man shook his head, entirely unfazed at the teasing, “Uh, the kind that starts with champagne and ends with all of us telling drunk stories and _not_ being jerks to her.”

He emphasized his ‘not’ by thwacking his friend back with an equal amount of force, “Why? What were _you_ thinking that I was thinking about, Dejun?”

“Uh,” Yukhei coughed, bringing your attention back to him. “Champagne, Y/N?”

“Sure,” you agreed brightly, fully crossing the room to the sitting area.

Ten scooted away from Dejun to offer up the space between them on the smaller couch to you, but Dejun followed him over, giving up his own spot for you to sit in. Accepting the glass of bubbly and golden liquid, you sat down beside your old childhood friend, looking around innocently as they were all still silent and watching you. You took a small sip, not all that much of a drinker. Honestly, you probably wouldn’t even finish half of this glass tonight.

“So you were telling us about the pay raise, Kun?” Yangyang prompted the conversation back to presumably whatever they were talking about before your arrival.

Kun seemed perfectly content with talking about himself again, “Oh yeah, it’s like a 50% pay increase from what I was making as a first officer.”

“How much exactly, Kun?” Yangyang pried further, half-teasing but half-serious.

And when Kun rattled off a number that was more than your students debts, you nearly dropped your glass of champagne. Nearly. Thankfully, you had enough wits about you to gently set it down, but not before taking a much bigger sip of it than previously. This was definitely not your kind of discussion.

“Y/N.”

Someone had said your name, and now you had all fourteen eyes back on you. You realized then that it was Kun, who spoke up again.

“Grad school, right?”

“Yes,” you confirmed.

“For…”

“Journalism.”

Kun nodded thoughtfully, bringing his glass of champagne back up to his lips. He didn’t break eye contact with you as he took a small but deliberate sip. You were holding his gaze, unsure of why, however.

“So do you have a final thesis or something you’re working on?”

Ten broke into the conversation with a snicker, “Why do you care so much about her school work?”

Yangyang had a delighted grin on his face, following Ten’s lead, “Is it because you’re too old to remember what it was like?”

“Or maybe it’s like a maternal-instinct type thing.”

“Because he’s old.”

“Exactly.”

Kun cocked his head to the side, eyes hard despite the grin on his face. Or maybe that was a grimace.

“I’m not a mom, and I’m not old. And for fuck’s sake, Ten, you’re the same age as me!” He snapped at his friends, only eliciting more giggles and laughs from them.

You were suppressing your own amusement, covering it with another sip of champagne. Kun grumbled something and shifted in his chair to lean further back into it. Apparently, he had decided to just ignore them as his eyes focused back on you. The coldness faded into something of a soft brown.

“So, final thesis?”

You didn’t know why he had any interest in you or your schoolwork, but you were intrigued to find out why. Intentionally vague, to see if he’d bite, you said noncommittally, “Uh, something like that.”

“‘Something like that?’”

He bit. Perfect.

“My final research piece,” you paused, noticing how he just ever-so-slightly gestured for you to continue. You gladly did, “Not to mention that my professor works at pretty much the biggest journal in all of Southeast Asia, and is selecting one piece to publish in it. And with it comes the opportunity to intern with her as well.”

“From how many?”

“There’s thirty-four of us.”

“That’s some competition,” Dejun whistled lowly, and you suddenly remembered the other six people in the lounge besides yourself and Kun.

“Yeah. But I _know_ that I can get it, if I could just…”

“Just…?”

You had a frank smile on your face as you looked around momentarily to address all of them, “Just find a freaking subject to do it on.”

Your hands itched to pick up your champagne glass again, but you kept them resting in your lap. The one thing you didn’t want to do was get drunk, or even tipsy or anywhere close to buzzed. That was really not what you needed, not when you had to hit the ground running on your story tomorrow. If you didn’t get a subject soon, you’d be out of time to do a good piece, and would have to settle for a B. You’d never gotten a B on a piece in your entire six years of being a journalism student, and there was no way you’d ruin that streak with your final and most important piece.

Then, an offer was made to you, “You could interview one of us.”

The force that your head snapped up with nearly broke your neck, and definitely gave you whiplash. Your look of amazement stopped on Yukhei, the source of the offer.

Then, the entire room was in an uproar. They seemed divided, half scrambling to help you and the other half already shooting down the idea with vehement passion. The only one who didn’t seem to be on either side was Kun, who just seemed a little annoyed.

“Stop yelling!”

And they did, heads bowing in shame at being scolded or out of respect for the person who had scolded them, you couldn’t tell. But what you could tell was that Kun was just a little more interesting to you now. You hadn’t imagined him as having much authority over them, especially from the incessant teasing of his age earlier. But they all must have had some kind of respect for him, ceasing their squabbling, even if was reluctantly.

“Let’s go in order. My left to right,” Kun pointed to the man the furthest away from you. “Sicheng, why can’t Y/N interview you?”

“I don’t do interviews,” the actor stubbornly crossed his arms.

“Fair,” he moved onto the next man. “Yukhei?”

“I wouldn’t mind normally, but I’m backpacking across Europe for the next three and a half weeks.”

“Hendery?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Pissy, but okay. Yangyang?”

“I don’t do much between races, so you might not really _want_ to interview me, but I’d be down for it.”

“Ten?”

“Y/N could totally interview me! The hospital would love it, as long as it’s not bad press.”

“Dejun?”

“Sure, sure. Sicheng’s ‘no interview’ policy might be annoying, though, since we’re working the same project right now.”

“Well,” Kun gestured to you expectantly. “There you go. Three no’s and three yeses.”

Your eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly, having picked up on the fact that he’d conveniently skipped over himself. With an airiness to your tone, you questioned, “What about you, Kun?”

His eyebrows shot up in a split-second look of surprise, as if he hadn’t considered himself in this at all, “Why me? I’m not famous.”

“Who said I wanted famous?”

You could tell that he was still doubtful. Sitting forward to lean in towards him, you continued seriously, “My professor—and honestly, me too—would get bored by any one of them.”

There were some cries of indignation among them, but you tuned it out, entirely focused on Kun.

“I don’t care about fame. I want real. Promise, I can make a good piece out of anything, as long as it’s real.”

To your surprise, Kun leaned forward as well until he was perfectly eye-level with you, “I can be real.”

“Perfect.”

He leaned back in his seat at the same time you did, “When do you want to start?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Are you afraid of heights?”

“No.”

“Got a passport?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Then tomorrow’s perfect.”

“Uhm,” Yukhei cut in, seemingly utterly bewildered. “Aren’t you flying to Paris tomorrow, Kun?”

“Yep.”

Your stomach sank to the floor. Kun was stringing you along, you couldn’t start your piece tomorrow if you did it on him. You’d just have to choose a different topic. Dejun could be interesting, or Yangyang, or Ten. But you didn’t have an excitement for it like you had felt for that split-second with Kun.

“What’s with that look, Y/N? I thought you said you weren’t afraid of heights?” Kun scoffed, a hand pinching your cheek that you quickly swatted away.

“I’m _not_. But you’re flying to _Paris_ tomorrow, Kun.”

“So? Just come with.”

“Well first of all, I can’t afford a last-minute plane ticket to Paris.”

“You don’t have to. Captain’s guest.”

Now it was your turn to be utterly bewildered. Was he really just saying that he’d be able to fly you all the way to Paris, for free, for you to be able to interview him?

“I can’t interview you on a plane—”

Kun interrupted you with an intense stare and heavy, short sigh, “I said I’d be real, not easy, Y/N. It’s either this, or you have to wait for my three-hour break in an airport terminal in Hong Kong in five days.”

The room was dead silent as everybody was invested in your decision. It felt weird, having them all waiting for your response even though the only person you could think about or look at was Kun. Despite the intensity of his look, there was nothing intimidating or malicious about it. Was just… intense. Breathtaking, one could say.

“What time?”

And his face broke out into possibly the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen as the other six men let out the breaths they were apparently holding.

“Four fifteen. In the morning.”

Your surprise caught you for a moment as you glanced at the time, “And you’re drinking not even seven hours prior?”

“That reminds me, I should get going,” he stood up, standing in front of you expectantly. “And so should you. You’ve got some packing to do, right? Two days, one night, and I hear that Paris is a bit chilly this time of year. Oh, and you should get to the airport closer to three.”

That only gave you a little more than five hours to get home, pack, and sleep before having to get to the airport. Delightful.

“Awesome,” you failed at hiding your sarcasm, giving him a thumbs-up as he meandered to the elevator.

“I’ll have Ten send you my number. Everything should be set up for you when you get there, but just in case.”

The elevator doors slid open, and even though you knew you should be leaving with him to maximize your already meager amount of time to prepare, you didn’t. You needed just a moment to process the past few minutes. You really just agreed to fly off to another country in exactly six hours and twelve minutes with some guy you’d know for a grand total of less than an hour. Well, all in the name of journalism.

“Yeah, I’m going to get going,” you echoed Kun’s words from earlier, a little shell-shocked. “Thanks for the invite.”

“Have fun in Paris! It sucks you guys are going before I’ll get there,” Yukhei sighed wistfully, as if imagining the lost opportunity.

Ten was practically beaming as you stood up, “I told you she’d be fun!”

With a final goodbye to them all, you stepped onto the elevator.

* * *

As soon as you’d gotten home, you were in a frenzy to pack what you wouldn’t need when you woke up, while also making a list of things that you didn’t want to forget when you left. You’d be asleep before either of your roommates were home, and up and gone before they were awake. Maybe you should leave a note.

You didn’t, you set an alarm on your phone before crashing.

* * *

**_BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRING!_ **

Your alarm came way too soon.

Literally rolling out of bed, you ended up on the floor. From there, you dragged yourself up and onto unsteady legs, nearly falling back onto your bed. How easy it would be to just conk out again. But you had shit to do.

**_BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRING!_ **

Knocked back into reality by the sound of your alarm, you fumbled for your phone to snooze it before yanking your charger from the wall. Even though you were planning on getting ready and leaving now, you kept it snoozed in case your body had another idea.

No matter how dim you made your phone screen, it was still too bright. Squinting against the garish light, you packed the remainder of your things that you’d need as you got ready. Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, hopefully in sizes that you wouldn’t get arrested for.

* * *

The airport was ridiculously alive for it being 3:15 in the morning. You’d gotten through security easy enough and had acquired your ticket from a perky attendant at the help desk of the airline Kun flew for. As promised, Ten had given you the pilot’s number, as well as some minor details about your flight. You didn’t want to know why Ten was awake at this hour either. He probably still hadn’t gone to sleep yet since the celebration.

Speaking of sleep, you were tempted to get a coffee with approximately seventeen shots of espresso in it so you didn’t pass out in the uncomfortable seats by your gate. But you refrained from it, settling for one of the ridiculously-priced bottles of water instead.

Sipping your water miserably, you opened up a fresh note on your phone, needing to brainstorm for this article. What kind of piece you wanted to write, what you wanted to ask him, whether you wanted to pry more into his personal or professional life. Mostly you brainstormed a few key topics to ask him about, to then let the questions flow naturally from there. Once you’d gotten some information, then you could start steering the interview in a more specific direction.

You were so absorbed that you barely registered the call for your flight to start boarding. Shoving your phone in your pocket and throwing out your empty water bottle, you hurried to grab your stuff and join the line of people. Oh shit, your ticket. You dashed back to your previous seat, where your ticket was exactly where you had left it, then ran to the back of the line again.

A pretty flight attendant directed you to your seat towards the back of the cabin, and you blindly followed her directions. Despite your split-second adrenaline rush from nearly forgetting your ticket, exhaustion still plagued you. You hadn’t gotten much sleep the nights leading up to the party either, making this your fourth consecutive night where you got less than four hours of sleep. Your sleep schedule had some serious fixing to do. But not yet. This little trip would definitely fuck it up even more.

You’d barely sat down when you heard an audible gasp from another passenger. The journalist in you forced you to open your eyes and look around, trying to figure out what was happening. You saw a figure in some kind of uniform making its way down the aisle, eyes scanning every passenger’s face.

Wait… that was Kun!

He spotted you at the same time you spotted him, and an apologetic smile came to his face as he stopped in front of you, “Morning, Y/N!”

While the other passengers were delighted to have the captain back here, you were a little annoyed, “How… the _fuck_ … are you so awake?”

“You look like hell.”

“I’ll uppercut you, I don’t care if you’re the captain.”

“Here,” he reached above you to take your luggage from the overhead compartment, then your carry-on from your hands. “Let’s get you to your real seat.”

You stood up with some hesitation, following him into the aisle, “My real seat?”

“Yeah, your ticket’s actually for first class. Was it Soonyoung who checked your ticket?”

“I have no clue.”

“It probably was, she’s new. Now let’s go, I have to get back in the cockpit.”

With some mild and incomprehensible grumbling, you followed Kun to the first-class cabin. If you were more awake, the luxury you’d just walked into would have impressed you. You’d flown before, but never in first-class, always economy.

He slowed to a stop at a seat, gesturing for you to sit down as he put your luggage aside for you as well, “I’ll see you a bit later, okay?”

“Alright,” you gave him a short nod, body practically melting into the new and much more comfortable seat.

“Have a good flight.”

“You too.”

You were out before the plane even took off.

* * *

Sometime later—your internal clock said probably three or four hours—you woke up. The lights in the cabin were too bright for a moment, and you rolled over away from them, towards the empty seat beside you. Except it wasn’t empty anymore.

“Oh hey there, you’re awake,” Kun greeted you brightly, giving you a scare that jolted you around in your seat for a moment.

You pressed two fingers to your jugular, “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry.”

He didn’t sound sorry at all, and you sighed, sitting yourself up straight.

“Shouldn’t you be…?”

“In the cockpit? We’re at cruising altitude right now, so it’s on auto-pilot. My first officer can handle it while I take a little break.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“It’s safer than cruise control on a car, actually.”

“Right.”

“Anyway, the interview?”

You made a noise of realization, nodding heavily as you reached into your pocket for your phone. A yawn split your mouth open, and you covered it with your hand, sleepily inputting your passcode.

“Still tired, Y/N?”

“I’m good, I’m fine—” Another yawn interrupted you, but you ignored it.

xSqueezing your eyes shut for a moment, it was an arduous and nearly painful task to open them back up again to read over your first question.

Kun chuckled a little bit, shifting in his seat to gently push back on your shoulders, “Go back to sleep, Y/N. It’s a long flight, and we’ll have quite some time once we get there, too. We’ll start the interview when you’re not about to pass out.”

Now that you were laying down again, you couldn’t fight the sleep that was heavy and palpable in your veins. Your argument was cut short as he stood up, and you felt something gentle and warm being placed over you as your eyes fluttered shut and you drifted back off to sleep once more.

* * *

“Miss? Miss?” A kind voice came from above you, and you woke up to the face of a different, but equally pretty flight attendant from before.

You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, sure that you looked like a gremlin next to her as you took in your surroundings. A blanket was on top of you that you couldn’t remember putting on yourself, and Kun was gone.

“Miss, we’re about to descend. Please fasten your seatbelt,” she requested sweetly before hurrying off to attend to something else.

Did you really just sleep for the entire thirteen-hour plane ride?

In disbelief at yourself, you did as she asked.

The blanket was peeled off and folded nicely before being set on the seat beside you. You put away the few belongings that you had taken out, including your phone with the list of unanswered questions and unexplored topics. Great progress, Y/N.

But at least you were starting to feel much more awake than you had in the past few days, ready to face the day.

What would your day even consist of, aside from interviewing Kun?

It didn’t take long for the plane to make its landing. However, you did spend way too long on the tarmac taxiing around waiting for your gate to open up. Finally, you were allowed off the plane.

However, you had no clue how you were supposed to find Kun now. You hadn’t set up somewhere to meet prior, and you didn’t have an international phone plan either. Awesome.

You decided that waiting around at the gate would be your best bet. So you stood around, your carry-on on your shoulders and your small piece of luggage at your feet. Your fingers drummed against your backpack strap, your foot tapped, and several annoyingly catchy tunes floated around in your head. Waiting was so incredibly boring. Your mind wandered a little, to something you hadn’t thought of. This trip was two days, one night. Where exactly were you going to stay for that night?

With a sigh, you abandoned your area and approached an airport attendant, asking if there was a hotel in the airport. Thankfully, there was. You could just get a room there for the night and blow the entirety of your past four paychecks in one go. Perfect.

You’d just turned from the attendant when you nearly slammed into someone. About to mutter an apology and continue on your merry way, the last thing you expected was for the person you’d almost hit to latch onto your arm.

“Y/N! Glad I found you,” it was Kun, still in his pilot’s uniform, a bag slung across his back.

You slowed your pace a little to acknowledge him, “Hey, Kun. I need to go make reservations at the airport hotel then we can head out.”

“No you don’t.”

Once again, he snatched up your luggage, wheeling it in the opposite direction of where the airport attendant had just pointed you in. Hurrying after him, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. He already had his own carry-on on his back, you could handle your own luggage. Not to mention that he was _going the opposite way of the airport hotel_.

“I really don’t want to be sleeping on the streets.”

“My dad owns a billion hotels around the world, we’re just going to stay in one of those.”

This piqued your interest. One of the topics you’d written down to want to explore was his father and his family. And he’d just given you the perfect segue.

“So what’s your relationship with your father?” You pried, well aware of how straight-forward you were being. “You didn’t seem to be very pleased with him in the lounge.”

Kun took a moment to think about his answer, and with your hands now freed up, you brought your phone back out to be ready to take note of whatever he said.

“I love him, but we don’t exactly… get along, is how I’d put it. He wanted me to get into the family business with him and take over eventually, but do you know how _boring_ managing a system of hotels is? I don’t know how something can be ridiculously stressful and ridiculously boring at once, but that’s the family business.”

His description and ending contradiction brought a faint smile to your face, and you typed out your notes in your nearly unintelligible short-hand. A way to make your notes easier, and to make sure that nobody else could read them and take ideas or findings from you. If anybody else looked at these, it’d mean almost nothing to them. But to you, it was your entire story, all laid out perfectly for you.

Outside the hotel, Kun hailed down a cab pretty easily, setting your things into the trunk before climbing in with you.

“We’ll stop at the hotel to drop off our stuff, I’ll change, and then I think brunch sounds good. Brunch sound good to you?” Kun propositioned after handing the driver a slip with presumably the address of the hotel on it.

You looked around outside the window for a moment. The sun was shining, people were strolling around.

“What time is it?”

“About 10:30 in the morning, local time. Hence, brunch. But it’s almost dinnertime back home. Either way, you’ve got to be starving. The flight attendants told me you slept the whole time.”

As if on cue, your stomach growled, loud and angry. You prayed that he hadn’t heard it, and instead stuck your tongue out at his backhanded comment on how much you slept.

“I’ve been doing stress-binges of TV shows and have gotten less than ten hours of sleep in the past four days. What about it?”

“I’m just glad that you got to make up all that lost sleep,” he held up his hands defensively, then leaned over you to point out something out your window. “Eiffel Tower! I think there might be a restaurant up there too? It’s been a while since I’ve been here, and that was only for a two-hour layover too. Hold on.”

Kun leaned back away from you, and you were happy to be able to breathe clearly again. Having him so close to you, looking like an excited puppy had put an unfamiliar weight on your chest. Not to mention that he just smelled… nice. Nothing special, but it was pleasant. And just inches away from you.

He said something in broken French to the taxi driver, your interest in this man piquing even more. If he’d only spent two hours in Paris a long time ago, why did he know anything in French? You quickly jotted down that question in your notes as well. The taxi driver replied to his question, and Kun presumably thanked him before returning his focus to you and his language back to one you actually understood.

“There _is_ a restaurant in the Eiffel Tower. Two, actually, if I understood him correctly. But the one on the… I don’t know which floor, but one of them isn’t open right now. I think,” as he admitted every little thing he might have misunderstood, didn’t remember, or didn’t understand in the first place, a blush spread across his neck to his face to the tips of his ears. “I’ll double check that when we get to the hotel. My French is… atrocious.”

“You understood more than I did,” you patted his arm reassuringly. “And you definitely spoke it better than I could.”

“Oh, please. Try this: _Salut comment allez-vous?_ ”

You shook your head, knowing that you’d already be bad at saying it. Kun pushed on your arm lightly, “Come on, Y/N, you’re just _trying_ it.”

“What does it even mean?”

“‘Hello, how are you?’”

With a glare and inaudible cursing out of his unfortunately effective puppy-dog eyes, you took a deep breath.

“ _Salut comment allez-vous_?” As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you regretted it. It sounded nothing like Kun’s pronunciation, and you could see the taxi driver give you a disdainful look in the rearview mirror too.

Your face was warm, and you buried it in your cold hands, shaking your head, “That was terrible. Horrible.”

“Oh, it was… a good first try,” Kun tried to reassure you, not succeeding very well. “Try it again. Here: _salut comment allez-vous?_ ”

“Nope, nope,” you vehemently denied this time, well aware of the taxi driver’s judgmental glare now firmly focused on the two of you. Despite the fact that he almost certainly didn’t know Chinese, you still dropped your voice to a whisper as you leaned a little closer to Kun, “I think our taxi driver actually hates us.”

“Yeah,” he was also whispering. “French people hate it when you speak their language without a perfect fluency and accent.”

“Oh so they’re dicks.”

Kun straight-up cackled right into your ear, hand flying up to cover his mouth as he broke down at your comment. The driver was watching you suspiciously, but no attention was paid to him as both you and Kun laughed and giggled with each other, each time you looked at the other making the situation even funnier to you.

* * *

After you checked into your—thankfully, separate—hotel rooms, you met Kun back in the lobby. Despite already knowing what the VIP lounge of a Qian Enterprises hotel was, you were still surprised by what the rooms looked like. And according to Kun, these weren’t even the nicest ones either.

You were still taking in the grandeur of the entryway as you spotted Kun disembarking from the elevator. You’d only ever seen him in either formal wear of some kind, or his captain’s uniform, making the casual outfit he stepped out in unfamiliar. He’d even taken care of the hat hair he got from his captain’s hat, and a strange heaviness came back to your chest, the same from the taxi ride when he had leaned over you.

“Ready?” Kun questioned, giving you a once-over. “Are you sure you’ll be warm enough?”

You looked down at your own outfit. It was what you’d wear for fall in Hong Kong, and you hadn’t had enough time to look up exactly how chilly it got in Paris, so you’d taken a guess. And judging by the layers Kun was wearing, you’d guessed incorrectly. But you didn’t have anything much warmer in your room, and the ravenous pit in your stomach of hunger won out over any attempt to waste more time not eating.

“I’ll be fine, it didn’t feel that bad when we stepped out of the airport,” you shook off his concerns.

“Okay, let’s go.”

* * *

It was a surprisingly short walk to the Eiffel Tower, and on the way there, you somehow managed to end up with one of Kun’s jackets across your shoulders. Yes, you may have been shivering, and yes, you did this to yourself. But you hadn’t complained, he’d just given it to you on his own. He had been in the middle of explaining that the restaurant on the second floor was closed, but the one on the first floor was open, when he casually slid it off and plopped it onto your shoulders, ignoring any attempts by you to argue it.

Your stomach growled even more, and you were thankful for the light hustle and bustle of the sidewalks to cover it up.

Once you were seated right by the window, the view caught your breath in your throat. The river was below you, and it seemed that all of Paris was laid out before you. You couldn’t even spot where the hotel was, it disappeared in the tight but beautiful city.

Your phone was already in your hand for your questions, and you quickly opened the camera to take a few pictures. You glanced over at Kun, and he seemed amused about something.

“What? I highly doubt I’ll ever be back,” you snorted, taking just a couple more pictures until your waiter came over to take your order.

After awkwardly stumbling your way through ordering and thanking the waiter when he came back, you finally had some food. It took most of your willpower not to devour it all in one go, and instead pace yourself out between asking questions and recording Kun’s answers.

“Uh, let’s start out pretty basic,” you said after skimming through your notes. “Why did you become a pilot?”

“If you ask my mother, she’ll tell you that I always kind of had my head in the clouds when I was little,” he replied, a fondness in his voice that wasn’t there when he talked of his father earlier.

“And if I ask you?”

“I was born too late to go to the moon and too early to go to Mars.”

“Oh so you wanted to be an astronaut?”

“What little kid doesn’t?”

“I think I wanted to be a space pirate, actually,” you laughed lightly as you remembered your own childhood dreams.

He chuckled at this a little as well, “Can I ask you some questions, too?”

“That’s not really the point of me interviewing you… but sure.”

“Why did you want to become a journalist?”

You frowned thoughtfully at this, “Good question. I don’t know… ran out of other options, I guess? That’s at least how I chose my journalism program, and then once I started it, I just fell in love with it. What’s something most people might not know about being a commercial pilot?”

Your meal continued on like that, with you asking Kun a question, him answering, and then turning it back on you. By the end of it, it was feeling less and less like you were just interviewing him. It was honestly going better than any first date you’d ever gone on. Not that this was a first date, at all, you had no clue why that thought was crossing your mind as the waiter set down the check.

Kun had snatched it up before you could, tucking a card into it before setting it back down.

“I can pay for myself—”

“Trust me, you don’t want to,” he put a protective hand over the case containing it. “Besides, that’s my company card.”

You let out a chuckle of disbelief, “Seriously? Rich kid and your job pays for you to go on trips to foreign countries and cities that some people can only dream of going to?”

Kun seemed almost bashful at this, “Yeah, Ten called me, uh… the ‘ideal sugar daddy’ once.”

The water you had taken a sip of got stuck in your throat for a moment as you laughed. For some reason the idea of Kun as a sugar daddy was extremely entertaining to you. He rolled his eyes at you as you wiped at your face with a napkin to catch the water drops that had spilled out. You were still chuckling.

“Why is that so funny to you?”

“I don’t know, it just is,” you shrugged, finally calming yourself down, a faint smile still playing across your lips.

* * *

The rest of the day passed by like a dream. You spent all of it with Kun, smushing in almost every tourist-y thing to do in the city that you could manage. At first, you’d been reminding yourself to continue handling it like an interview, but somewhere between the Louvre and a short sight-seeing boat ride down the Seine, that had completely slipped your mind. And somewhere between the Seine and dinner, Kun’s fingers had entwined with yours.

You were walking down the streets together, a crêpe from a street vendor in one of your hands while the other still held Kun’s. And you were still wearing his coat, too. You knew you should’ve asked what was happening, but you were enjoying it to much to do anything to ruin the moment. Instead, you let Kun guide you around, he apparently had a destination in mind.

Holding the crêpe out to him, you offered, “Want a bite?”

“Considering I bought it, yes,” he scoffed as if it was the most obvious thing, and you elbowed him in the side.

“You’re the one who offered! And you used your company card, too.”

He ignored your retort, instead taking his free hand to pull your hand holding the crêpe closer to his mouth. To your horror, he ate half of it in one mouthful, and you wretched it back from him. Kun seemed delighted at your reaction, having to stop and let go of your hand in order to double over in laughter, nearly snorting out the half-chewed crêpe in his mouth. He coughed, and you smacked his back in revenge.

“Choke! It’s what you deserve!”

Kun caught his breath again, standing up straight to finish his bite. He still had half a smirk on his face as he reached out for your hand again and continued your walk down the streets.

“Ten was wrong,” you teased him. “You’re the worst sugar daddy.”

“I’m not a sugar daddy!”

His exasperation was funny to you, and you gleefully took another small bite of your dessert.

When you looked back up from the streets, you realized where exactly you were headed. The Eiffel Tower was just up ahead of you, illuminated by thousands of brilliant lights. It wasn’t that you hadn’t noticed it earlier, the thing was huge and glowing, but the full grandeur of it hadn’t struck you until now.

“Woah,” you stopped in your tracks, halting Kun as well.

As you gazed up at it, everything else faded away for a just moment. Whatever happened before or after this moment, nothing mattered right then. Except Kun, of course, who was still holding your hand, and still looking at you. Which you found out when your eyes dropped over to his face, mirroring your own look of awe.

“What?”

“You’ve got something on your face,” he snickered, thumb coming up to wipe at the corner of your mouth and your cheek. “You’re a messy eater.”

You simply stuck your tongue out at him again, ignoring your wildly blushing cheeks, hoping that the color was covered up by the pitch-black night around you. Kun seemed only even more amused at this, laughing heartily. His eyes twinkled as he laughed, looking like golden stars in the light streaming down from the tower. You thought to yourself in that moment that you’d never seen something more beautiful in your life, and you never would.

“What? Really, why are you still laughing?”

“Nothing, no reason.”

“You’re so full of shit,” you rolled your eyes. “You said you’d be real, Kun.”

It was his turn to scoff, a smile quickly replacing it, “Fine, fine. Close your eyes.”

Your heart leapt to your throat, “Why?”

“Just do it. Please.”

With a sigh, you did. As soon as your eyes were shut, your other senses were on high alert. The sounds of other people, the river in the distance; the smells of the fancy restaurants; it all buzzed through you. Then they were all taken over by one sensation. It was feather-light, so light you almost thought you’d imagined it. A kiss. Kun’s lips brushing against your gently, and only for a moment. So hesitant.

Your eyes flew open, and Kun was still so close to you. Good, that’d make this easier.

You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and yanked his mouth back onto yours. Now that you could actually feel his lips against yours, you practically melted into him. He made a small noise of surprise that was quickly forgotten as his hands settled on your hips, pulling you even closer to him.

If you were thinking rationally at all in that moment, you might have stopped and considered exactly what the hell you were doing. Making out, in public, with a man that you’ve known for a little more than twenty-four hours. And you definitely couldn’t say that _this_ was in the name of journalism.

But you weren’t thinking rationally at that moment, instead the only thing permeating your thoughts was Qian Kun, and the amazing kiss you’d just broken away from.

“Oh…” he breathed out, and you let out a short chuckle in response.

“Yeah.”

Kun sighed, taking a step back from you, but still grabbing your hand as he approached the base of the Eiffel Tower, “We’re flying back tomorrow.”

You squeezed his hand, understanding his unspoken question. What would happen once you went back to the real world?

“When will you be back home for more than a two-hour layover?”

He shook his head, “I don’t… want to think about that right now. Can we just keep enjoying this night, please?”

“Sure, of course.”

* * *

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed that smelled of Kun.

Turning over, you went to grab your phone from your nightstand when you saw a slip of paper. You picked it up, squinting in the early morning light to be able to read it.

_‘Sorry, the crew has to get there a couple hours early. I’ll be back in Hong Kong for short layover in three days, and I get a couple days off next week, too. We should do something._

_\- Kun’_

It brought a smile to your face, and you tucked the note away with your other things as you packed for your return flight.

* * *

Knocking on the door of the address Kun had given you, you waited for just a few moments. Your original plans with Kun for when he got back for his two-day break were to go out to dinner. But there was a delay on his return flight, so you missed your reservation. So instead, you were meeting him at his place for a movie night, which you definitely weren’t complaining about.

The door swung open, and you were greeted by the smiling and already sleepy-looking figure of Qian Kun. He swooped in for a chaste kiss before allowing you to enter. The small smile that had come to your face dropped as you took a look around his apartment.

Barren walls, barely-used furniture, and a dreary feeling that quickly settled over you was what was in his apartment.

“Did you just move in or something?” You asked bluntly.

Kun scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly, “Oh, uh, no. I’m just not here a lot that it never really gets lived-in, I guess. No point in decorating if you’re never around to see it, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Your eyes landed on something on the coffee table. A plastic astronaut helmet. You giggled, walking over to pick it up, “Are you sure you’re not still dreaming to be an astronaut when you grow up?”

“I am grown up,” he crossed his arms. “It’s called a display piece.”

“I thought there was no point in decorating if you’re never around to see it?” You were smug as you shot back, then lifted it up towards his head. “Put it on!”

“Wh—fine,” he quickly gave up on arguing, allowing you to slide the helmet over his head.

Once you had it on, you grinned with delight.

Kun pressed a button on the side of the helmet, and the visor popped open, revealing his eyes that were crinkling along with his smile, “Happy?”

“Yes,” you beamed at him. “It’s cute.”

“Your turn.”

You held still while he put the helmet on you, readjusting it so you could properly see him through the hole of the opened visor, “Well?”

“You’re the cutest space pirate I’ve ever seen.”

You were still grinning as he lifted the helmet off your head and set it back on the coffee table. Kun gestured for you to sit on the couch, and then followed suit, accompanied by a yawn. You eyed him suspiciously as he called dibs on choosing the first movie.

Four more yawns had left Kun before the five-minute mark, and you looked over to him.

“Tired?”

“Hm? No, not at all.”

Yawn.

Rolling your eyes, you gently pushed down on Kun’s shoulders until he was laying down, his head resting in your lap. Your fingers found his hair as you commented, “Sleep, Kun. I’ll wake you up when he dies.”

“When he what?”

“You haven’t seen this before?”

“No, I—” his indignant retort was cut short by yet another yawn.

Running your fingers through his hair soothingly, you were satisfied when he decided to drop the subject, too tired to keep the argument up. A few moments later, and one of his hands reached up to loosely lace his fingers through yours and rest your linked hands on his chest. You could just feel his heartbeat under your hand, as it continued slowing as his breathing evened out. And finally, he was asleep.

You pressed a light kiss to his forehead, still absentmindedly playing with his hair as you settled in, prepared for a long night.

* * *

The next time you saw Kun, it wasn’t even alone. It was at the VIP lounge with all the other members, all gathered to celebrate Sicheng and Yangyang’s birthdays, since Kun and Yukhei had both been out of the country for Yangyang’s, and Kun would be gone again before Sicheng’s. You tried not to think about that through the whole night, instead busying yourself with food, drinks, Kun, and your other friends.

As you were settled into one of the large armchairs, watching Ten and Yukhei bellow out some tune on the karaoke machine, you felt a presence nearby. Kun was perched on the arm of your chair, slowly sliding down and behind you. Amused, you scooted over a little bit to let him maneuver in better before pulling you back against his chest.

“Did I tell you earlier how beautiful you look?” He murmured into your ear, your breath catching in your throat.

“Yes, but you can tell me again, if you’d like,” you managed to tease back.

“I don’t think I will now.”

You chuckled, turning your head to be able to peck his nose, “Grumpy.”

Kun rested his chin on your shoulder, nose still wrinkling from the kiss you’d placed on it. You leant your head against his, just happy to have the physical affection you always craved whenever he wasn’t around. You continued talking quietly to each other, making quips about the others that were paired with poorly-concealed laughter and lovestruck grins.

* * *

It was hard, you decided three weeks later. What you were doing with Kun. It was hard on you, and hard on him. He was gone for long periods of time, and only back for no more than a couple nights at a time. You saw him for a grand total of ten hours in those three weeks, three and a half of those spent in the airport, or at a restaurant just down the street from it when he had an hour or so between flights.

What little time you got with him was still a dream, but… it wasn’t enough. You couldn’t split up the time between interviewing and dating well enough that both were suffering.

It was a mutual decision. Kun hated that he couldn’t give you the attention he thought you deserved, and you hated that your article was going nowhere.

* * *

“I still don’t get what happened, Y/N,” Yukhei complained to you one night as you were in the VIP lounge.

Earlier, it was you, him, Yangyang, and Kun all together. You had a short interview session with Kun before he had to run to get ready for his next flight, giving you a short and friendly peck on the cheek on his way out like he usually did.

Your model friend was laid across the largest couch, his long limbs not even close to fitting as he was completely sprawled out. And maybe a little tipsy.

“What do you mean?” You questioned back, sitting cross-legged in the armchair Kun had previously been occupying.

“With you and Kun. You two seemed so good together and then you just… stopped.”

“We decided that it’d work better if we were friends and did the article.”

“Is that really all it is?” Yangyang popped into the conversation now from his own spot atop the bar counter. “I know you two are friends but… not much has really changed, has it? Other than the label.”

“What do you mean?”

“The way you two look at each other, the hugs, the pecks on the cheek, the smiles, the fact that your wallpapers are still pictures of you two together, and not to mention that you still hold hands sometimes for fuck’s sake!”

Your friend seemed more exasperated about this than you did.

“He was complimenting my new nail color—”

“Oh my god, you two are impossible.”

“And it is different! There’s things we don’t do anymore.”

“Like what?”

Your face flushed, knowing that you brought this on yourself, “You don’t want to know.”

“You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if you guys still did f—”

“Y/N,” Yukhei spoke up again, cutting Yangyang off. “Do you think you’ll try again, with Kun? After your interview is over? You know, a huge weight being lifted off your shoulders.”

“I don’t—I don’t know. I don’t think so… we’re—”

“Let’s rephrase it,” Yangyang interjected. “Do you _want_ to try again?”

A heavy sigh powered through you, your whole body turn to lead as you cast your eyes downward. Fidgeting with your fingers, you thought for a moment. All of your old emotions welled back up to the surface. Everything you tried to push away to make this friendship and business relationship with Kun work.

How much you hurt when he isn’t around, how that hurt multiplies when you’re together but not _together_ , how happy he makes you, how seeing him happy makes you happy, how he brightens up your life even if it’s just with a simple picture of whatever foreign city he’s in at the moment. He’s never failed to send you one of those, no matter the time or if he was only there for a short layover.

“I do,” your voice cracked when you said it, and you quickly mustered up the willpower to clear your throat and shake your head. “But that doesn’t matter. At least not right now. I’ll drive off that bridge when I get there, okay?”

Your friends exchanged a look, but didn’t push the issue further, much to your relief.

* * *

This morning, you were out having a rather early breakfast with Chengxiao and Xuanyi before they went to work, and you went to a meeting with your professor. Despite living with them, you’d found yourself around the VIP lounge members more often than not, and you’d been missing them.

Chengxiao was just complaining about the new hire at her work who couldn’t do anything when your phone buzzed. You gestured for her to wait for a moment as you checked who it was. It could be your professor, after all. That wasn’t actually who you hoped it to be, but that was always your excuse to yourself.

[kun: _attached image_ ]

You giggled at the picture he had taken of himself, mouth open in a wide smile as he was stood in front of some kind of crumbling stone landmark that you couldn’t quite identify considering his arm was mostly covering it, and it was fairly dark out.

[you: where are you now?]

[kun: rome!]

[you: oh is that the colosseum behind you?]

[kun: yeah!]

“How’s Kun?” Chengxiao questioned, an amused smirk playing across her lips.

“What?”

Xuanyi rolled her eyes, reaching across the table to tap your nose, “You only get that little smile on your face when Kun’s texted you.”

You tried to be angry, but instead you just got flustered, “I get happy when you guys text me too.”

“Mm, sure,” your friend definitely didn’t believe you. “Anyway, Chengxiao, _I’d_ love to hear about the absolute buffoon of a coworker you have.”

“So would I!”

* * *

“Hello?” Kun’s familiar voice coming through the speakers of your phone made your heart lurch in your chest.

You hadn’t spoken to him in any way other than text for the past two weeks, but you just _had_ to call him as soon as your professor had told you. Which was exactly two minutes ago, as you’d just come out of your meeting with her.

“Kun! You’re not going to believe this!” You tried to keep your voice level, and completely failed.

“What? What’s happening, Y/N?”

“Our article was chosen to be published!” You squealed into the phone, knowing very well that you were probably blowing out his speakers.

“Y/N, that’s awesome! Congratulations, I’m so proud of you.”

You could practically imagine the fond smile that accompanied his words, but you weren’t done yet.

“That’s not all! Professor Zhang wants it to be the cover story too!”

“Really?”

“Yep, you’re just that interesting!”

“Or, you’re that good of a writer.”

Despite his compliment going straight to your heart, you still had more to tell him, “That’s _still_ not all, Kun!”

“What else is there? You ended world hunger?”

“No,” you scoffed, but couldn’t maintain your annoyance for long. “Since it’ll be the cover story, that means we need a cover.”

“Well, yeah, Y/N, that’s generally how it works.”

“God, you’re thick! _You’re_ going to be on the cover, dummy!”

He immediately blurted out a stunned, “What?”

“A photoshoot! Professor Zhang wants you to do a photoshoot so we can have pictures for the journal. Both the cover and to put in throughout the article.”

“Really?”

“ _No_ , this is the worst prank ever. Yeah! You need to send me your schedule of whenever you’re back home for more than a day, okay?”

“I get back to Hong Kong tomorrow, and then I actually have the next two weeks off after that,” Kun said, and you froze in your tracks, your mind already going off into every possibility while your heart raced.

Two whole weeks, he’d be here?

“Two… weeks?”

“Yeah, I put in for a two-week vacation now, and then once I go back, I’m on a new schedule. Two weeks on, with a one-day break after the first week, then a week off. And I’ll be doing more domestic and short-haul flights too, so even during my two weeks on I’ll be around a lot more often.”

It took you a second to really process that. Kun would get a lot more guaranteed time off and have a much higher likelihood of having impromptu time off here as well.

_‘I’ll be around a lot more often.’_

It sounded… too good to be true. Not to mention that this didn’t mean anything, it wasn’t an invitation for anything, nothing was being implied. Right?

“Wow, that’s great, Kun,” you finally managed a hollow reply, still wading through your own thoughts.

“I’m really excited about it,” his giddy words were countered by a yawn. “So just, let me know when and where for the photoshoot.”

“Kun, was that a yawn?” You weren’t going to let him cover it up that easily.

“Uh, maybe.”

“What time is it where you are?”

“Two-thirty in the morning.”

“You should be asleep!”

“You called me.”

“Alright, just go to sleep now, Kun.”

“I will. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Kun,” you echoed with some humor in your voice. It was nowhere near nighttime for you.

* * *

Photoshoots were a lot more difficult than you had imagined. Especially when— because it was _your_ article— _you_ had to organize and plan everything. 

Originally, you were going to meet Kun at the airport like you tended to do, but instead you had to shoot him an apologetic text while you frantically tried to find a location to rent out. Your professor’s journal had their own photographer, but no set studio. And after that, you then realized that you had to meet with the stylist and photographer beforehand as well, to make sure they got across the correct feeling of not only Kun, but also your article.

The day of the photoshoot, you arrived at Kun’s apartment mid-afternoon, rapping your knuckles against the door. A shout that sounded akin to ‘It’s open! Come in!’ came from within, and you hesitantly twisted the door handle. It was, in fact, unlocked, so you pushed the door all the way open to grant yourself entry.

Your eyes caught on a familiar object in the small apartment, one that instead brought a smile to your face. Kun’s astronaut helmet. It was probably his one possession in there that held any sentimental value to him.

“Okay so I didn’t know what I was supposed to wear to a photoshoot,” Kun’s voice snapped your attention over to the door of his bedroom, from which he had just emerged dressed in his well-kept pilot’s uniform. “But I figured they’d want some pictures of me in my uniform, right?”

“Good guess,” you confirmed, watching as he scrambled to grab his keys and his wallet.

“Should I bring anything else?”

“The helmet.”

“What?”

“The astronaut helmet. You should bring it.”

“I—okay. Your article, your photoshoot, you’re the boss,” Kun relented, jogging over to pick it up from his coffee table before meeting you by the front door.

* * *

Kun had never done a photoshoot before in his life, that was apparent to anyone who watched for even a second. He was incredibly stiff and looked downright angry. Which wasn’t right for the article, or for who Kun was anyway. You quietly asked the photographer for a short break, and he accepted, calling out to all the staff for a five-minute break.

You met Kun halfway, already reaching out for his now-pensive face, “Hey.”

“I’m doing terrible,” he muttered, leaning into your touch as you cradled his face with your hands.

“You’re just not used to the camera, it’s alright.”

“No it’s not, you need these for your article.”

“How about we try something else? Maybe one of the other outfits, do you want to go see those?”

“Sure, I guess.”

Taking Kun’s hand in yours, you guided him further away from the camera where the stylist was waiting by a rack of clothes. She showed him each of the outfits you’d helped to pick, but he still seemed unsure.

“I have an idea,” you grinned, bringing out one hanger to hand to Kun. “You put this on and come find me when you’re done.”

“What are you going to do?” He questioned suspiciously, accepting the outfit, nonetheless.

“Just go change.”

After he disappeared into the changing room, you went back over to where you’d set down yours and Kun’s personal belongings. Including his astronaut helmet, which you deftly picked up and tested the visor mechanism on.

You had just finished explaining your idea to the photographer when you heard your name being called from behind you. Your jaw actually dropped when you spotted Kun.

Despite picking out the outfit specifically for him, you couldn’t have imagined that it’d suit him so well. A simple pair of slacks, a dark blazer with a bright red sweater that had white stripes on underneath, a white button-up under that, and the stylist had even gone so far as to fix up and style his hat hair he’d gotten from his captain’s hat. You were reminded once again of just how simply handsome he was.

“Y/N?” Kun repeated your name, a smirk across his face. “You in there?”

“Yep, yep,” you quickly snapped out of it.

“So what’s your idea?”

You held out the helmet to him in response. He simply looked down at it in your hands.

“What?”

“You’re going to wear it, for the first few photos,” you explained, insistently pushing it against his stomach for him to take it. “Until you can get comfortable with the camera.”

Kun seemed skeptical, but accepted the helmet into his own hands anyway. The photographer called for him to get back on the set, and you eagerly stood behind the camera. Now in front of the camera, Kun pulled the astronaut helmet down over his head, completely concealing his face.

The first couple photos were awkward again, until you got fed up and yelled out, “Pretend you’re in space! You’re walking on the moon! You’re exploring Mars! You’re a—you’re a space pirate!”

A muffled giggle came from inside the helmet, but it worked. Kun took your advice verbatim, posing in ways that looked similar to the ideas you’d just spouted out. He was getting silly with some of them, and completely unprompted, popped the visor up on the helmet. He continued posing, taking cues from the photographer on where to look and what facial expressions to do.

He was so entertaining to watch, quickly mastering his facial expressions as he next took the helmet completely off. A staff member rushed to fix his hair up again while another stuck a set of fake glasses on him. The entire scene of Kun really getting into his element, propping the helmet up on his hip and expertly modelling, made your chest swell. Not only with pride, but with something else. It was the same thing you’d felt when you were in Paris with him, under the Eiffel Tower that night. And in his apartment when he fell asleep with his head in your lap. And whenever he’d smile, or text you a picture of his current city, or kiss your cheek.

Only stronger.

The photographer was delighted by him, declaring that they’d gotten enough in this outfit and he should go get back into his captain’s one and they’d retry those pictures. This time the pictures were more serious, breathtakingly intense and handsome in a way that you hadn’t seen since the night you’d agreed to the impromptu flight/interview.

Then it was time for another outfit, this one making him look somehow even more attractive to you, inspired by the casual layers he’d worn during your night in Paris. You still had that jacket, you realized. You hadn’t worn it again since, the weather hadn’t been cold enough for it, but you’d sometimes pick it up again just to feel the material or bring back the memories more vividly.

“Y/N,” Kun called out for you, still in front of the camera.

“Hm?” You replied attentively.

“How are the pictures looking?”

You glance over to the screen that’s displaying the previews of the last few pictures taken. He’s definitely having fun in all of them, in a variety of poses. Something’s… missing, though.

“They look great so far,” you replied, then changed your attention to the photographer. “Do you think we could do an up-close portrait of him?”

The photographer nods, gesturing for an assistant to bring out a stool for Kun to sit on, “What expression?”

“Whatever he manages.”

“And how up-close?”

“Three-quarters of his face, I think.”

Kun’s sat on the stool, looking at you with mild confusion, “So what’s happening?”

“It’s a close-up. I want you to… think about something important to you, something that makes you happy. And then let out whatever emotion and expression that comes along with, okay?”

“I can do that,” he accepted, readjusting his position on the stool a little bit.

You kept your focus on the viewfinder of the camera, watching his expression change and soften bit by bit. His forehead relaxed as his lips spread into a gentle but genuine smile, his little dimples that only come out every so often making an appearance then. You’d never seen him look this happy or this at peace. It was a look of pure happiness, peace, adoration, and love. And it hurt you in a such a beautiful way.

* * *

After the photographer snapped a few pictures of Kun like that, he declared the shoot over. You were informed that you’d have the full set of proofs to look through in a couple days. With a final thank-you to the staff, who had a few more things to wrap up that you unfortunately couldn’t be of much help for, you left the studio with Kun.

“That was a lot of fun,” he declared as you walked out onto the city sidewalks.

“Yeah, it was. You really got the hang of it after all.”

“Yukhei better watch out, I’m coming for his job.”

You laughed, easy smile coming to your face as you conversed with Kun, “The entire modelling industry is quaking right now.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Kun suddenly blurted out, completely derailing your conversation. “You’re on my way home anyway.”

No, you weren’t.

But you didn’t want this day to be over, you didn’t want to leave Kun. Most of the time you’d been able to ignore whatever you had in the past, or had right now, but today had made that struggle impossible for you.

So you agreed, nodded, and let him take your hand in his.

The two of you went over the day again from the beginning, reliving the best moments. You also hashed out some ideas for how to organize the spread of the article, and which photo to choose as the all-important cover photo.

When you got to your apartment, and also the end of the photoshoot in your memories, you stopped.

“Can I ask you something, Kun?”

“Yeah, of course,” he still hadn’t let go of your hand, despite the fact that you were standing outside your unlocked and ajar front door, your other hand on the door handle, and the next logical step would be for you to go inside.

“The last pictures… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look that happy. What were you thinking about?”

There was no hesitation and no semblance of dishonesty in his reply, “I was thinking about you.”

You couldn’t stand it anymore. All too much had built up and was swirling around inside you. You let go of Kun’s hand and the door handle in order to properly grab his face, pulling his lips to yours. He kissed you back with the same amount of fervor, his own hands desperately clinging to your hips, then your shoulders, then they got tangled in your hair. You weren’t sure if you had pulled him forwards or if he had pushed you backwards, but your back was pressed up against the wall of your entryway, mouth still locked with his.

It wasn’t enough. You felt like you could never get enough.

Your lungs screamed for air, and you could feel Kun pulling back. Your lips followed his for a moment before you gave in, letting him break the kiss. His hands had landed on the sides of your face, and he interrupted the intense moment with a thumb gently stroking at your cheek as he suddenly broke eye contact with you. His eyes fell downward as the two of you were quiet for another moment. But not before you saw that they were moist.

“Kun,” you murmured his name.

“Y/N,” he replied with your own name and another desperate but quick kiss. “I missed you so much. Everyday that I was gone, and everyday that I was with you, I missed you. I miss whatever we had, and I want to try it again. The article’s over, I have a new schedule. Please.”

“Of course. Yes. Yes!” You whispered desperately, gripping at his shoulders to kiss him again between words. “I- missed- you- too.”

God, were you glad that your roommates weren’t home that night.


End file.
